


At His Fingertips

by curiousair



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Play-fighting, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Roommates, Sleeping Together, Tickling, Wrestling, dating apps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiousair/pseuds/curiousair
Summary: A year after Derry 2.0, best friends and roommates Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier attempt to navigate mundane life, bad Grindr hookups, and new (old) desires.Or, the one where Eddie is extremely ticklish, and Richie takes advantage of it because he's a little shit.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 325





	At His Fingertips

Richie walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, hair matted on one side, wearing nothing but the ugliest boxers Eddie has ever seen. They’re a garish bright pink, printed with something better suited for a bowling alley carpet than an article of clothing. 

Eddie eyes him from the kitchen table, vaguely amused by Richie’s inability to give a shit about his physical appearance and simultaneous need to draw attention to himself via repeated fashion crimes. Around a mouthful of cereal, he asks, “Where the fuck did you even buy those?”

“They were a gift,” Richie says, peering into the fridge. “Probably meant to be a joke, but they obviously underestimated how little self respect I have. Chris liked them.” 

Eddie had seen the man sneaking out this morning, wearing a red, white, and blue striped bowling shirt that surely is a personal affront to Americans and patriots everywhere. “Of course he did.”

Richie takes out the carton of orange juice, unscrews the cap, and before he can even think about bringing it to his lips, Eddie is pointing to the cupboard. “Get a glass, asshole. I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“Could tell you exactly where my mouth has been,” Richie grins and wiggles his eyebrows and opens the cupboard, taking out a wine glass. “More than I can say for you. How are things with whatshisface anyway?”

“He left last night,” Eddie sighs. He and Nico have been ‘hanging out’ for a few weeks now, but the sex is decent at best, and the longer they ‘hang out,’ the more they realize they don’t actually have anything in common. Last night, they looked at each other mid-hookup and decided to call it quits. “We’re gonna stop seeing each other, I think.”

Richie uncorks the bottle of champagne that’s been on the counter for a month at least, and proceeds to make a mimosa that’s mostly champagne. “Oh. What happened? Blowjob gone wrong?”

“Several blowjobs gone wrong. It’s like someone told him that teeth were _preferred._ ”

“Bummer,” Richie drones, and looks at the dry-erase calendar on the fridge. “Hey, I forgot Stan and Patty are in town this weekend. We should do something. Maybe call Bill if he isn’t too busy gargling Mike’s nut.”

“Aren’t they cute?” Eddie says. “Good for them, honestly. Even though Bill is definitely going through a post-divorce, mid-life crisis.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Fuck you, I resent that.”

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing. Be a slut, I don’t give a shit. You know me.” Richie takes a sip of his drink and taps the calendar. “Hey, you know what today is?”

Speaking of being a slut, Eddie has an unanswered message on Grindr that has been sitting in his inbox for a week and he has no clue what it says. He pulls up the app and opens the message to refresh his memory. All it says is ‘hey cutie,’ which is disappointing. “What day is it?”

“A year ago today, we killed an evil alien clown.”

A lot of things have changed for Eddie since last year, including growing a beard, giving up ‘clean eating,’ and having sex on a regular basis. One of the most interesting developments is living with Richie. Eddie had previously said he would never have a roommate that isn’t his romantic partner, even if he was absolutely hurting for cash. Richie had offered him a room six months ago, joking the way he does when he’s too nervous to be serious: “Well, if you’re too broke after whatsherface took half your money, you can stay with me in my needlessly gigantic condo.” Eddie accepted, and made himself at home fairly quickly. Truthfully, he can afford an apartment on his own in LA now, but Richie openly admits to liking Eddie around, so Eddie doesn’t feel any pressure to leave. And admittedly, Eddie likes it here. Not only does Richie keep things interesting and new, he also provides Eddie with his daily dose of comfortable nostalgia. 

When he and Richie saw each other for the first time after 27 years, one of the first memories that came back was of Richie floating face down in some disgusting green water they frequented as kids, pretending to be dead, and Eddie screaming his head off, _‘That’s not fucking funny, asshole, don’t do that!’_ Then, hours and a few drinks later, he remembered Richie constantly holding his hand, ruffling his hair, and trying to kiss his cheeks, which Eddie was always too squeamish about even though he had wanted it just as much. The two of them never actually admitted that they had feelings for each other, but oh boy were they there. It lasted for a summer before it fizzled out and Richie got a 'girlfriend.' Eddie moved on too, albeit slowly, and he and Richie remained close until Eddie moved away. They laugh about this together every now and then, because they were both so stupid and desperate to touch the other that even a hand on the knee was racy at one point. 

Eddie chews, scrolling through the endless grid of photos. “A year, huh? Did you mark that on the calendar?”

“No, but it’s kind of hard to forget almost dying, don’t you think?”

Eddie shrugs. “I’ve been through worse.” It was an immensely traumatizing event, with nearly being impaled and all, but if Eddie’s shitty childhood taught him anything it was to work with what he was given and move the fuck on. Richie helped with this, forcing Eddie to laugh when he really wasn’t in the mood, because apparently his most effective coping mechanism is pretending he can’t read the room. They weren’t even back to the townhouse yet before Richie started joking about ordering them matching t-shirts. Two weeks later, Eddie got a package in the mail. Inside was a t-shirt that read: “I killed an evil clown, survived, and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.”

“We should celebrate.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Party this Friday night?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll call Stan and tell him to bring his party clothes,” Eddie says, setting his phone aside. He opens his laptop, deciding he really should get to answering some emails. As tempting as it is to use working from home as an excuse to mindlessly swipe through hookup apps, he’d really like to keep his job. After all, it costs money to pay for weekly Grindr dates. “Bev and Ben don’t fly in until Saturday, so maybe we can do dinner with them instead.”

“Sounds good,” Richie hums, and finishes his drink. He sets the glass down and leaves the kitchen, returning shortly after wearing his glasses and a faded t-shirt, still in his ugly boxers. He’s scratching his balls with one hand and holding his phone with the other. “Why don’t we make it a triple date?”

“You disgust me,” Eddie says, referring to both the public ball scratching and the suggestion of a triple date. “Why would I subject myself to a fucking triple date? I’m not 20 years old.”

“It could be funny.”

“I don’t have a date anyway,” Eddie grumbles, and sighs resignedly at the amount of unanswered emails in his inbox. 

“You could find one before Sunday. I believe in you,” Richie says. He washes his hands, thank god, before dropping two slices of bread in the toaster. “Anyway, I need one too.”

Eddie sips his lukewarm coffee and starts responding to an email, getting as far as a greeting before he’s stuck. It’s possible that changing out of his pajamas might help him feel more productive, but that would require him to get up. “What about Chris?”

Richie takes jam and butter out of the fridge. “Oh, that’s done. He gets jealous, it’s fucking weird.”

“Jealous of?” Eddie takes a bigger drink of coffee and holds his hand out for the jam, knowing Richie only brings it out for him.

“You,” Richie answers simply, bringing the toast to the table. 

A hard, abrupt laugh makes Eddie choke on his coffee. “What?”

Richie drops into a chair and slides Eddie a slice of toast. “Weird, right?”

"Super fucking weird,” Eddie agrees, spreading jam on the perfectly toasted bread. He only had to tell Richie once that he likes his toast ‘lightly browned’ and now it’s immaculate every time.

“He said we’re too close. Too _touchy_.” Richie quirks his eyebrows up, like he’s amused and reaches across the table to brush his fingers under Eddie’s chin. “What do you think? Think we’re too touchy?”

Eddie slaps Richie’s hand away. "Fucking asshole, that tickles." 

This only amuses Richie even more, of course. "Oh, you're ticklish huh?" 

"You knew that, dickhead,” Eddie says, dodging another attack.

"Did not. If I knew that, I would have made your life a living hell." 

"You _did_." 

"You liked it," Richie says, opening his laptop. He clicks around for a few seconds, taps a few keys, then closes it and picks up his phone again. It’s like this nearly every morning, him saying he’s going to start writing and then doing everything but that until 4 AM, when he claims he writes his best content. “So, dates. This Sunday. Any new prospects?”

Eddie shuts his laptop too, with the thin excuse that he’ll make up for the work later, and picks up his phone. There’s already a new message in his inbox, waiting to be read. "Well, this guy says hey, and that he wants to eat a jelly bean out of my ass. Either that's a new thing or I've been out of the game too long." 

"It isn't new,” Richie mumbles distractedly. “Is he good looking?" 

"He's short," Eddie says. 

Richie makes a little _pssh_ noise and shakes his head. " _You're_ short." 

"Average,” Eddie corrects. “And I mean he's shorter than me." 

"So, if he were taller you'd let him eat a jelly bean out of your ass?" 

"I don't know.” Eddie shrugs, considering it. Food in the bedroom? Is it too kinky for a 41 year old or just too kinky for someone like him, the man who still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of lube between his asscheeks? “Maybe." 

Richie opens his laptop and starts typing, reading aloud as he does. “‘What is the optimal flavor of jelly bean if one is going to eat it out of someone’s asshole?’”

“Piña Colada,” Eddie responds. “And, you’re welcome, by the way. For the comedy inspiration.”

“Thanks,” Richie says belatedly, and shuts his laptop again. “Also, I’m glad you’re coming out of your shell. Food play? That’s big for you. I’m proud.”

“Fuck you, dude,” Eddie mutters, typing a simple ‘hey’ back to jelly bean guy. As he does, a message from another guy pops up. “I’m not a prude anymore. I’m just _picky._ ”

"You aren’t picky and I know that for a fact.”

Eddie reads the new message— _‘if I said you had a nice body, would you hold it against me’_ —and if he rolled his eyes any harder, they’d fall out of his head. “Yeah? Where’s your proof?”

“The front desk guy at the gym,” Richie answers easily, still scrolling through his phone. “His cheek and lip injections make him look like he's been hit in the face with several shovels and you still slept with him, so..."

"First off,” Eddie responds, truly appalled, “it was dark and his face was in the pillow, so fuck you...also, you can’t judge me. You brought that 25 year old with blue hair home-”

”And his dick was so good it brought a tear to my eye,” Richie finishes.

“He drank straight from the milk carton,” Eddie adds. “I almost committed murder." 

"It was worth it...wait, wait, I think I found a winner.” Richie holds up a finger and clears his throat, reading from his phone. “'Princess on the streets, daddy in the sheets.'"

Eddie holds out his hand. "Let me see." 

Richie hands his phone over and takes Eddie’s. "Let me see yours." 

Upon seeing Richie’s profile, Eddie can’t help but laugh. His display photo is a blurry picture of him on stage with a bright white light overhead that washes out most of his features. “Richie, you couldn’t have picked a worse picture.”

“Haven’t had any complaints,” Richie says with a shrug. “Plus, when I send the good pictures, they’re pleasantly surprised enough to meet up. Then, when we _do_ meet up and they find out how funny I am, they aren’t too bummed that I actually look like...if Sasquatch and Rivers Cuomo fucked and had a baby.”

“It’s because you’re famous,” Eddie says, and Richie gives another shrug.

Eddie reads over Richie’s profile, noticing he doesn’t have a preferred ‘position’ listed. When Eddie made his profile last year, drunk, fresh off his break-up, and far too emotional to be making decisions, he selected ‘top’ mostly due to his inexperience and the pressure to choose _something_. Though he considers himself more open now, in a non-practicing sense, he hasn’t changed it. And, since no one has asked him for anything different, he figures it’s just _fine._

"This other guy who messaged you. Not jelly bean dude, but bad pick-up line dude. Not your type," Richie says, tapping at Eddie’s phone with something akin to disgust on his features. “He’s boring. You’d be better off with jelly bean dude. That is, if you can get over your fear of analingus.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, because he can only tell Richie to shut the fuck up a handful of times a day before it becomes white noise, and looks at the last profile Richie tapped. The guy’s ridiculous bio definitely matches his leather jacket with the fuzzy pink lapel. “This guy isn’t your type either. He’ll clean your bank accounts out and not think anything of it. I don't know where he gets off calling himself daddy." 

“You’re probably right,” Richie says. "I like this guy for you. He's funny." 

"Is he hot?" Eddie attempts to peer at his phone, but Richie shifts it away.

"Funny trumps hot. I'm messaging him." 

"Fine.” Eddie clicks on a profile of a vaguely handsome man with a nice smile and a straightforward profile. “I'm messaging this guy for you. At least he has a real haircut and decent lighting in his picture."

“Fine by me.” Richie continues to type, with a shit-eating grin that makes Eddie extremely suspicious. He hands Eddie his phone, gets up, and stretches. He takes his phone from Eddie, chuckling at the simple _‘Hi, how are you?’_ message Eddie sent to Matthew, _37, 5’10, 180 lbs, Looking for Dates._ “Real interesting, Eds. Anyway, I’m gonna call the Greek place around the corner to see if they’ll be able to cater this weekend. How many people are you thinking? 30? 50?”

“50. We’ll eat like kings for a week if there are leftovers,” Eddie says, swiping open his messages. “Richie, what the fuck.”

From the hallway, Richie starts to laugh. “I promise you’ll get a response!”

Eddie stares at the message to Jay, _35, 5’11, 160 lbs, Vers Bottom, Looking for Dates_.

‘ _Do you eat ass? Looking for someone to lick my balloon knot until I cry.’_

* * *

Fifty-three people show up to Richie’s condo on Friday night, and after Eddie has a minor freak out about not having enough food, Richie shoves a shot glass in each of his hands and tells him: “Relax, dude, you’re making me nervous.” Eddie double-fists the shots and immediately asks for another, much to Richie’s delight. Now he’s full of vodka, cranberry juice, and hummus, and is knee-deep in a heated discussion with Stan and Patty about Stan’s absence last year. Stan is drunk too, but he’s more of a reserved drunk Eddie has learned, and by comparison Eddie looks downright belligerent. Patty looks on, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. 

“I’m just saying,” Stan says, infuriatingly calm, “if I was there, the clown would have been dead in ten minutes, tops.”

Patty nods, an encouraging hand on Stan’s back. “It’s true. He’s been training in mixed martial arts for the past few years. You should see him.”

“How the fuck would that have helped?” Eddie asks, bewildered and a little bit too aggressive. “Were you gonna put the fucking clown in a guillotine choke?” 

Stan brings his cup to his lips and says: “You don’t know. Maybe if I was there, I could have tried it out. But, we won’t ever know how that would have turned out, will we?”

Eddie, practically growling now, his drink sloshing in his cup, points a finger at him. “We called you and you didn’t answer! Mike even left a message.”

Stan shrugs. “It didn’t sound urgent at the time.”

Before Eddie can come up with a response that isn’t ‘ _‘I’ll kill you_ ,’ a feather light touch on the back of his neck makes him jump, and subsequently splash his drink down the front of his shirt. 

__

“Hey,” Richie says, in a half whisper, half giggle into Eddie’s ear as he turns. Eddie punches him in the arm and Richie cackles, reaching out to tickle Eddie behind his ear. “You’re just an angry drunk little raccoon.”

__

“Fuck you,” Eddie laughs, jabbing his finger into Richie’s side. Richie yelps and jumps away, laughing when Eddie chases after him. “Come here, asshole.”

__

Richie grins, a touch goofier than usual, and grabs Eddie by the wrist. "Do not-" 

__

"Nope,” Eddie says, wrenching his wrist out of Richie’s grasp and poking him again. “Too late. You started this." 

__

This rapidly escalates to a full-on tickle-fight in the middle of the living room, with Eddie digging his fingers in the tight crease of Richie’s armpit and Richie using his long arms to his advantage, tickling the curve of Eddie’s neck. “Fucker,” Eddie hisses, and Richie drops one hand to Eddie’s side, the other darting out to defend all of Eddie’s attacks with ease. In his peripheral vision, through Richie’s giant fucking paw of a hand smushing his face, Eddie sees Stan visibly cringe and walk away, pulling Patty along behind him. 

__

The front door opens, providing Richie with just the excuse he needs to escape from Eddie’s clumsy hold. Their raucous laughter fades and Eddie holds his sore sides, following Richie to the door. Mike and Bill step inside with their arms wide, as if they hadn’t been over just a week ago.

__

“Hey, you pasty fucker, bring it in,” Richie says, pulling Bill into a hug. “I thought you said you two have been spending time on the beach.”

__

“He lied to you,” Mike laughs, with a hug that could possibly squeeze the life out of Eddie if it were any tighter. “ _I’ve_ been spending time on the beach. He’s been sitting under an umbrella, staring off into the distance, trying to list all the synonyms for _mucus_.” 

__

“ _Meldrop_ ,” Bill says, “is the word I was looking for.” 

__

“How’s filming?” Eddie asks.

__

“It’s shit,” Bill answers wryly. “Glad for the break though. So, a year, huh? It feels like yesterday.”

__

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Mike says.

__

Richie claps Mike on the shoulder. “And you two sure have been having fun, haven’t you?”

__

Neither Mike nor Bill dignify that with a response, so Eddie speaks up. “Stan and Patty made it. Stan started practicing mixed martial arts and is convinced he could have, like, fucking suplexed the clown into oblivion or something.”

__

“Suplex is a wrestling move,” Richie informs them, matter-of-factly. “Not a mixed martial arts move.”

__

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

__

“Suplex,” Richie says slowly, turning to him, “is a wrestling move. Like, a body slam, kind of.”

__

Eddie blinks at him again. “I literally don’t give a shit, Richie.”

__

“A _suplex_ , Eddie.” Richie squints and his voice shifts into a hilariously serious tone. “Do you know what a suplex can do to a person? It could have killed Pennywise on impact. We don’t know.”

__

“I absolutely doubt it, but I’m glad you have a working theory,” Eddie says and upon seeing the mischief behind Richie's eyes and the grin spreading across his face, Eddie glares and points a finger like a warning. "Do not touch me, I'm not your fucking guinea pig."

__

“I'll be gentle," Richie says, reaching both arms out for him. "C'mon. Let me suplex you."

__

Eddie squawks, too drunk to be embarrassed about it, swatting Richie’s hand away. "A gentle suplex. Funny."

__

Thankfully, Bill’s not-so-subtle segue into talking about the new script he’s working on steals Richie’s attention. Eddie uses this opportunity to bring Mike to the kitchen to show off his three little house plants by the window, which he’s immensely proud of. Mike indulges him, letting him ramble at length about new leaves and ones that didn’t quite make it, and Eddie makes him a drink. He makes himself a new one too, with the excuse that his childish best friend made him spill most of the last one.

__

An hour and two drinks later, Eddie stumbles out onto the patio for fresh air and finds Richie there, leaning over the railing with his phone in his hand. Eddie sets his drink on the table, tiptoes up to him, and strokes the backs of both his biceps. Richie gasps, jumps, and drops his phone over the railing. The two of them watch it land in the bushes below, and Eddie utters a quiet “ _Oops_.” They’re on the first floor, but it’s still quite the fall for a fragile iPhone to take. 

__

“Alright,” Richie says, swinging a leg over the railing. “I’m going over. If I die… tell Bill his new script sucks.”

__

“No, I’ll get it,” Eddie says, nudging Richie’s leg off the railing. Before Richie can stop him, he’s vaulting over, truly surprising himself with his drunken athleticism. He lands on his feet in the dirt, the bushes coming up to his waist, and peers around in the dark for Richie’s phone. Its obnoxious bright green, iridescent case shimmers just enough in the moonlight and Eddie picks it up, waving it around in the air victoriously, looking up at Richie’s moonlit eyes and wide smile. Richie grabs his phone and holds out a hand for Eddie to take, and Eddie does, gripping the metal railing with his free hand. With very little effort, Richie pulls Eddie up and helps him back onto the patio.

__

Once Eddie is safe on his feet, swaying slightly, Richie resumes the tickle-fight from earlier. Eddie, too weak to fight back properly, just takes it, retaliating with the occasional pinch at Richie’s sides. Richie laughs at him, enveloping both of Eddie’s hands in his.

__

“Oh, careful,” Eddie coos. “Don’t want anyone else to think we’re too _touchy_.” 

__

“So fucking what? You’re my best friend. I like being close to you.” Richie loosens his grip on Eddie’s hands, but keeps their fingers intertwined. “Anyone who isn’t cool with that can fuck off. Fuck Chris.” 

__

Eddie nods in agreement. “Yeah, fuck Chris.” 

__

Richie leans his back against the railing and scoffs. “Too touchy? That’s so stupid.” 

__

“So stupid,” Eddie agrees, watching Richie’s gaze rake over his body.

__

“Makes me want to touch you more, to be honest,” Richie says, and pulls Eddie closer. “Give me a hug.” 

__

“Sure, dude,” Eddie chuckles, a little off-balance as he practically trips into Richie’s chest. Richie doesn’t seem to mind, he wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and holds him still, keeping a hand on his back. Humming, Eddie rests his head on Richie’s chest and Richie rests his head on Eddie’s. 

__

Richie hums too, the feeling vibrating through Eddie’s skull. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” 

__

Hugs are their preferred method of greeting, but they don't hug like this often, wrapped up in each other with no space between them, breathing each other in. That last time Richie held him like this, they were both post near-death experience. "Yeah. It does." 

__

“What were you drinking?” Richie asks. “I can smell it.” 

__

Eddie lifts his head, pulling back a little. “Guess,” he says, and exhales over Richie’s face.

__

It’s disgusting, but Richie just smiles and takes a whiff. “Cranberries,” he says, and drops his gaze to Eddie’s mouth. “Let me taste." 

__

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie snatches his drink from the table and returns to the embrace, handing the cup to Richie. Richie takes a sip, smacking his lips, and hands it back. Without the cup fully leaving Richie’s hand, Eddie takes a drink and says, “That probably gave me all your germs.” 

__

Richie smirks and sets the cup on the railing, pulling Eddie back into his chest. “I could give you _all my germs_ , if you wanted.” 

__

There’s a knock on the sliding glass door, then Mike steps out onto the patio. “Hey,” he says, and stops, his eyes darting between Richie and Eddie. “Sorry for...interrupting?”

__

They don’t pull apart completely to address Mike, which seems to make him even more uncomfortable. He averts his eyes, and jerks a thumb inside the house. “Some folks were asking about one of your absurdly expensive bottles of wine.” 

__

“Yeah,” Richie says, the same time Eddie says, “No.” 

__

“So, can we open it or…” Mike trails off, looking somewhere above Richie’s head. 

__

Eddie glances up at Richie, meeting his glassy eyes, and says, “Yes,” the exact same time Richie says, “No.” 

__

“You know what? I’ll leave you two to… this, and come back in a little while,” Mike says, and steps back inside, closing the glass door behind him politely. 

__

Eddie steps back, suddenly cold outside of Richie’s embrace, and motions inside. “Coming?”

__

Richie smiles and follows Eddie inside, tickling the back of his neck as they go.

__

* * *

__

It’s always exciting when the guys he meets on Grindr turn out to be hotter in person, but it doesn’t outweigh the fact that most of them are not nearly as funny as they made themselves seem. Jay talks at length about his job as a personal assistant, giving forced anecdotes about the _wild_ errands he has had to run for bratty B-list celebrities. Also, he definitely lied about his height. When he walked into the restaurant, Richie leaned over and muttered: “If he’s saying he’s 5’11, I’m allowed to say I’m 6’5.” 

__

“That’s interesting,” Eddie repeats, for the third time, glancing to his left to glare at Richie. This is his doing. The motherfucker. At least he sends an apologetic look back, before turning away to talk to his date about his own upcoming comedy special. Motherfucker and a narcissist. 

__

Matthew is nice, and that’s about it. Eddie can tell Richie is attracted to him, because he’s laughing too loud and everyone at the table, including Matthew, knows that Matthew isn’t that funny. Richie will probably get bored of this after a day or two, but at least he’ll get a funny story or a great night in bed out of it.

__

Ben and Bev show up shortly after Jay starts talking about his time working on set on a teen Netflix dramedy, saving Eddie from jamming his chopsticks into his ears just for the thrill.

__

Bev gives Eddie and Richie hugs and settles into a seat across from them. She folds her hands over the closed menu and asks, “What’s new?”

__

“Nothing much, really,” Richie says with a resigned sigh. Then, he adds: “Last month I sneezed and came at the same time and literally threw my back out. Haven’t felt right since.”

__

Bev’s smile doesn’t even falter, which is truly a testament to how much she loves Richie. There’s a beat of silence, then Eddie laughs, going warm when he notices Richie’s lips twitch into a smile. The rest of the table remains silent for another long minute and Ben clears his throat, glancing warily at Richie and Eddie’s poor, useless dates. 

__

“I think she meant with the writing, Richie.”

__

Richie chuckles and shakes his head. “Ben, man, I love you so much.”

__

“What about you guys? What’s new?” Eddie asks. “I saw that little write up about the new stuff you’re designing, Bev.”

__

“ _Stuff_ , he says,” Richie quips, with a scoff. “Bev, tell us about your lovely new pieces?”

__

Bev rolls her eyes, but is happy to talk about her process in designing a sustainable capsule collection for some high end brand. This piques Matthew’s interest, apparently, because it urges him to talk for a full ten minutes straight about his sister’s ex-boyfriend’s brother who once went to New York Fashion Week.

__

Richie is definitely not listening, but he puts on his best ‘oh, that’s so interesting’ face and nods along. Eddie bites back preemptive laughter, breaks his chopsticks apart, tucks one of them under the table, and pokes Richie gently in the side, right above his hip. Richie closes his mouth around a surprised laugh, and doesn’t even look away from Matthew as he unwraps his chopsticks, twists the wrapper, and discreetly sticks it under the table to tickle Eddie’s wrist. Eddie chuckles and snatches Richie’s hand, holding it in place. Interestingly, Richie doesn’t pull away— he brushes his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand, leans his other elbow on the table, looks at his date, and asks him something Eddie can’t hear because his heart is suddenly pounding.

__

There’s a content smile on Richie’s face that isn’t for anyone but Eddie and for a second, Eddie is transfixed. When he was 14, he used to wait until Richie wasn’t paying attention to stare at him. He’d hold his breath, his eyes darting quickly over Richie’s features to take in as much as he could before the moment passed and he had to look away, pretending he’d never drunk him in greedily like some filthy little heathen. He finds himself doing the same thing now, his breath caught in his throat as he gets his fill of the crinkles by Richie’s eyes, the shadow of stubble on his cheek, and the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he speaks. 

__

“I’ll be right back.” Eddie slips his hand out of Richie and stands up, retreating to the restroom. 

__

The water in these places never gets hot enough, but it turns it on as hot as it can go and scrubs his hands until they feel a little raw. Behind him, the door opens and Ben steps in, taking the sink next to him.

__

Ben, who has never been known for being subtle, doesn’t even pretend to be washing his hands or taking a piss. He looks at Eddie and says, point-blank, "It's cool that you two are okay with dating other guys." 

__

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. “Why wouldn't we be okay with that?" 

__

"Because you two…” Ben trails off, frowning. “Wait, were you not hooking up with Richie at one point? When you first moved?" 

__

"No...oh my god, who told you that?” Eddie asks, laughter— _nervous laughter_ , he notes—bubbling up inside him. “Did Richie tell you that?" 

__

“No, we all just thought it was convenient that you finalized your divorce, which you basically expedited, and immediately shacked up with Richie.” Ben holds up a hand in defense. “Not judging, just… we assumed.” 

__

Eddie goes over to the hand dryer and shoves his hands underneath it. Again, not hot enough. “Well, you all assumed wrong.” 

__

"Well,” Ben says easily. “Mike said you guys looked cozy last night." 

__

"Well, Richie is a handsy drunk,” Eddie answers, just as easily. 

__

"Well, so are you, according to Mike,” Ben says. “And Bill, actually.” 

__

Eddie curses at the hand dryer and goes to the paper towel dispenser instead. “Well, maybe you all can fuck off and mind your business?” 

__

Ben just laughs at this, pats Eddie on the back and leaves the restroom.

__

When Eddie gets back to the table, he keeps his hands to himself.

__

* * *

__

Not only is Jay unfunny, he’s needlessly difficult and lazy in bed. It was practically a knockdown, drag out fight to get him to wear a condom for a blowjob. Eddie has kicked guys out for more petty reasons, but in that moment, going back and forth with the man for far too long, he was pitifully willing to put up with some bullshit just to get his nut. The blowjob only lasted about thirty seconds, with Jay patting the top of Eddie’s head like someone would an unfamiliar dog and then, to add insult to injury, he came and immediately fell asleep. He’s fully passed out on Eddie’s bed now, his flaccid dick still hanging out of his pants and Eddie has half a mind to wake his ass up and demand reciprocation. Instead, he’s been sitting in his bed with his dick in his hand for the past ten minutes and stewing in his own anger and sexual frustration.

__

“Piece of shit,” he mutters to Jay’s stupid sleeping face. “I hate you.”

__

A moan rings out, echoing through Eddie’s wall, which is impressive, since Richie’s room is down the hall. Then, moments later, there’s a knock on Eddie’s door. Eddie tucks his half chub into his boxers and pads across the room, opening the door just a crack. 

__

Richie is there, shirtless, jeans unbuttoned, hair tousled. He’s panting, a sheen of sweat over his sweaty chest like he's just come back from a run. “Hey, man, sorry if I’m fucking your shit up, but do you have a condom?” 

__

Eddie looks back at the dipshit sleeping in his bed and back at Richie. “You don’t have any condoms?” 

__

“I’m _out._ ” 

__

“Your date didn’t bring a condom?” 

__

“What’s with the third degree?” Richie asks, leaning against the door frame. He tilts his head to peek into Eddie’s room. “There must not be a lot of dick touching going on in there.” 

__

“Fuck off,” Eddie sighs, and grabs a condom from the designated container on his dresser. “You’re both irresponsible.” 

__

Richie kisses his cheek leaving a big wet mark in his wake. “You’re a saint, I love you.” 

__

“Love you too, whore,” Eddie says, and calls after him as he starts down the hallway. “Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

__

Richie flashes a smile over his shoulder and gives Eddie a big, cheesy wink.

__

* * *

__

Disappointment hangs thickly in the air the next morning. Eddie wakes up late, stoked that Jay managed to see himself out but annoyed that he never got to come last night. He's so annoyed, in fact, that he isn't even in the mood to get himself off. Groaning, he stares at the ceiling and sends his boner a cease and desist letter.

__

Richie is in the kitchen when Eddie finally decides to get up and face the world. He's making eggs, reaching into the fridge to grab two more when he sees Eddie. "So, last night was a bust sort of.” 

__

“Why, what happened?” Eddie asks, pushing start on the coffee marker. It's ready to go, the basket filled with the overpriced coffee imported from Indonesia. Freshly ground, judging by the mess Richie has left on the counter. Richie doesn't even drink coffee because he says it makes him want to jump out of his skin, but if he's around and awake early enough, he'll start a pot for Eddie.

__

Richie turns down the heat on the cast iron skillet and cracks four eggs onto its sizzling surface. “We were kissing, groping, all that good stuff. It was great at first. I had big plans. Then, he dropped his pants and he was honest to god smooth down there. Like a Ken doll. No body hair to be found. I was like 'okay, Richie, you can't say anything because what if he has a condition?’ I literally had to ‘beep beep’ myself." He pulls a spatula out of the drawer and pauses, looking bewildered as he continues. "But his arms were hairy and he has facial hair, so I'm just thinking why the fuck would you need to be bald around your dick? Aerodynamics?" 

__

Sighing, Richie sprinkles the eggs with pepper. "And it isn't that I was judging, I just felt insecure. There I was, holding my dick like a caveman who has never attempted more than polite manscaping." For full effect, Richie mimes this, holding a loose fist over his crotch, waving the spatula around with his other hand. "Made me feel like I wasn't doing my part, you know. As a gay man. I was so embarrassed, I didn't even let him touch me again after that, I blew him and called it a night." Finally, he turns back to the stove and carefully lifts the eggs out of the pan, adding quietly: "His balls felt like baby powder." 

__

Richie plates the eggs and slides one over to Eddie. "You're lacking your post orgasm glow, so I'm assuming your night didn't go well either."

__

Eddie eats standing at the counter, forgoing all manners. “Not in the slightest. He didn’t want to wear a condom and he was like ‘Don’t you trust me?’ and I was like ‘I don’t fucking know you, dude.’ And he looked at me like he didn’t understand what I was saying and I could have screamed. I had every terrifying STD statistic locked and loaded, and it’s like he could see in my eyes that I was about to ruin every future sexual encounter for him, so he put it on. After all of that, he came fast and I ended up not coming at all. I paid for his food and he barely even touched my dick. Honestly, I want a fucking refund.” 

__

“That desperate?” Richie asks, piercing the egg yolk with a fork. Eddie smacks the back of his hand against Richie’s arm and Richie chuckles. “What? You say you're picky but you’re begging Jay from Grindr to wear a condom? You’ve kicked guys out for more petty shit than that.”

__

“He’s hot,” Eddie explains slowly, “and I was _horny._ Can’t a man have a meaningless hookup without being judged?”

__

“You’re hot too, and so are lots of other guys. There are lots of fish in the sea.” Richie flicks his gaze up at Eddie and wiggles his eyebrows. “Also bears, and otters, and cubs, and everything else. And, like, that’s at a single yoga studio in Silverlake alone.”

__

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Eddie rolls his eyes and finishes his eggs. “I don’t have to settle or deal with assholes from a stupid hookup app.”

__

“Right, you deserve better than that,” Richie says, and pushes his plate aside to open the jar of wheatgrass powder than Eddie hasn’t touched in months. He fills a small glass with water, adds lemon juice and a scoop of powder. “Want one?”

__

Eddie shakes his head, going for one of the stale donuts left on the kitchen table yesterday morning. “Have we met?"

__

“Don’t think so.” Richie grins and raises the glass. "To better sex." 

__

“To better sex,” Eddie drones, raising his donut. 

__

Richie chugs the drink, grimaces and drops the glass in the sink. As he steps into the living room, he asks, "Have time to help me with something today?"

__

"With?" Eddie asks, tucking himself in the corner of the couch. 

__

"I'm rewatching my last special and making sure I don't rewrite a different version of the same joke more than once." Richie picks up his laptop and sits on the opposite corner of the couch. He already has Netflix cued up, paused at the beginning of the special. "Not including the jokes about me having a gigantic monster cock. Those are based on facts and I will bring them up as I see fit."

__

"And what exactly do you need my help with?" Eddie asks, decidedly ignoring the obvious bait.

__

"Moral support," Richie says. "But, mostly for comfort and to validate me for the millionth time."

__

"I'm biased though." Eddie kicks his legs up onto the couch and Richie mirrors him, bracketing Eddie's legs with his. "For some unfortunate reason, I like you."

__

Eddie has seen the special twice since it came out last month, and could likely recite some of the bits verbatim. On screen, Richie pauses and props one hand on the mic stand as he delivers his next bit, in a hilariously morose tone.

__

"I'm a middle-aged man behaving like a twenty-two year old twink out of West Hollywood because I previously spent a good 15 years jacking off in a dark room whilst crying and listening to Lover You Should've Come Over on repeat. Eventually my CD would start to skip right at the part where he'd sing 'I feel too young to hold on,' which always made me cry more, but also made me come really hard for some reason? That's a common experience for other closeted gays, right?" He pauses for laughter, a small satisfied smile on his face. "Anyway, I'm a queer and I turned out to be quite the trollop. To me, the process of getting an STD test was more daunting than coming out. Like, now people _know_ I'm like this. These places always say they don't judge, but you know they do, you just know. Someone has looked at that sheet with my name and age on it, remembered my sweaty face and the stench of fear coming off me in waves like a cartoon skunk, and said ' _That guy_ is getting laid regularly?' I didn't sign up for that. When you're nervous around someone, I've heard that it helps to imagine them naked or in their underwear. So, it's comforting to me that Alec from Cares Diagnostics and I have seen each other's assholes."

__

It's just as funny the third time, and when Eddie laughs, glancing over at Richie, Richie is looking back at him already. Having been caught, he retaliates by tickling the sole of Eddie's foot. Eddie kicks him, blaming his reflexes and Richie catches him by the ankle, lightly scratching at his heel and up along the arch. "You started this," Eddie warns, before sitting up to tickle the backs of Richie's knees. 

__

"I'll finish it too," Richie charges forward and gets both his hands under Eddie's arms. Eddie shrieks and tries to pull back, but Richie pulls him forward and he tumbles into Richie's lap, collapsing with laughter against his chest.

__

"Why are you like this?" Eddie asks, struggling to catch his breath. He's somewhere between lying on him and straddling him, completely helpless to Richie's hold. "Did you not get enough affection as a child? Or did you get _too_ much?"

__

"I just like seeing you laugh."

__

It isn't until they go still, panting and grinning wildly, that Eddie feels that Richie is hard.

__

"Sap," Eddie teases, and flicks Richie's earlobe. It's easier to do than to address the elephant in the room, which is that Richie is _rock hard_ and more importantly, it feels _good_ pressed against the crease of Eddie's thigh.

__

Richie licks his lips. "So what if I am?"

__

When Eddie attempts to get up, he's met with resistance. Richie spreads his fingers over the small of Eddie's back and looks up at him, lips parted, eyes soft. 

__

"Do you want to...watch something else?"

__

There's a quiet, rather startling moment in which Eddie realizes that Richie wants Eddie to stay here, on top of him. "Yeah, whatever you want."

__

Richie moves as little as possible to reach the remote on the side table, and switches the TV to some nature documentary. He rubs both hands over Eddie's back and starts to narrate over footage of two baboons having sex. Eddie is sure whatever Richie is saying is absolute comedy gold, but he can't focus over the overwhelming warmth of Richie's arms, his rapid heartbeat right against Eddie's ear, and his fingertips brushing the sliver of exposed skin at the hem of his t-shirt.

__

Richie falls asleep in this position, his hands going limp on Eddie’s back. Eddie extracts himself carefully, takes Richie’s glasses off for him, and moves back to the opposite corner of the couch. This time, when Eddie stares selfishly, there’s no risk of being caught. Richie is stretched out over the cushions completely, and it’s almost too much to take in at once— one long leg dangling off the edge of the couch, the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, his hairy belly peeking out of his t-shirt, his thick neck, strong jaw, and pink lips. _Handsome_ , Eddie thinks. He’s fucking handsome.

__

Out loud, to absolutely no one, Eddie says: “Okay, what the fuck."

__

Obviously he’s sexually frustrated and fed up with subpar dick. That’s exactly why he’s hard, sweating, and imagining pulling Richie’s sweatpants down and over his hips to see if his dick will spring out like a wound up jack in the box.

__

Eddie scrolls through his contacts and decides to send a text to his most blunt and rational friend. 

__

_So, I think I want to have sex with Richie._

__

Ideally, you shouldn’t want to fuck your best friend. And until this very moment, it seems, he hadn't. Now that he actually _does_ want to fuck his best friend, everyone is going to think he’s wanted it all along. Which wouldn’t be a problem other than the fact that he’s going to look like a big fat liar. The most annoying thing about this revelation, Eddie decides, is that if he asked Richie to hook up, Richie would probably shrug and say something like _“Yeah, sure, man. Let’s do it. No skin off my dick.”_

__

Stan replies within sixty seconds.

__

_I thought you had already?_

__

_What? Ben asked the same thing wtf_

__

_Can someone tell me what’s going on?_

__

_Yeah, Bev sent me a message and asked if I knew anything._

__

_She said Ben told her that Mike said something._

__

_And Bill said when he visited you guys last month, he walked in on you and Richie in a pretty compromising position_.

__

Eddie types his response quickly and with a particularly aggressive jab of his thumbs.

__

_I WAS CRACKING HIS BACK! Bill knew that!!!_

__

_Alright._

__

_Fucking gossips. No, Richie and I aren't having sex. What makes everyone think we're having sex?_

__

_You are two 41 year old men tickling each other in front of everyone? We only assume you've been doing more in private._

__

_Okay fuck you. Goodbye._

__

_I'll send you a link to my favorite lube._

__

_I have plenty of lube, jackass._

__

Eddie tosses his phone onto the coffee table. Sighing, he looks at Richie, slots himself between his legs, and tucks himself back under the weight of his arms. Richie stirs, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Hey, you,” he mumbles, and guides Eddie’s head to his chest. Eddie holds his breath and Richie holds him tighter, drifting back to sleep. 

__

* * *

__

After a shitty day at work, Eddie’s first one back at the office in weeks, he comes home to the soothing sounds of Richie singing loudly and off-key in the kitchen. Eddie smiles to himself, taking off his shoes and loosening his tie at the door. Richie is finishing the second verse of I Wanna Sex You Up when Eddie steps into the room. 

__

"Oh, hey,” he says breezily, cutting himself off right in the middle of ‘ _making love until we drown_.’ He shuts the fridge, holding a bunch of lettuce, block of cheese, and a beer. “Perfect timing. Want a sandwich?"

__

‘Yeah, I’m starving,” Eddie admits, dropping into a kitchen chair. Richie turns the music down and sets a beer in front of him, already open. “Thanks.”

__

As casually and respectfully as possible, Eddie watches Richie go to the kitchen to wash the lettuce, dragging his gaze over Richie’s tall, broad body. He’s wearing shorts today, shorter than he’d normally wear out in public, the hem stopping just above mid-thigh. They’re tighter too, hugging the curve of his ass and threatening to cut into the solid meat of his thigh. He turns to open a drawer, and if Eddie squints a little, he can see the outline of Richie’s dick. God bless Lululemon and their overpriced scraps of elastane and polyester. Eddie wraps his lips around the opening of his beer bottle and keeps it there, idly wondering if Richie has always been this sexy. _Statuesque_ even, in his fitted work-out shirt.

__

"Remember Matthew from the triple date?” Richie asks, reaching into the breadbox on top of the fridge. The fabric of his shirt strains with his movement and Eddie notices the hair at the nape of his neck curling with sweat. He’s been to the gym today, and Eddie can’t handle that mental image right now.

__

“Yeah, super boring hairless guy, right?”

__

“He sent me a message today asking if I wanted to meet. I suppressed my body hair insecurity and said yeah sure, then immediately after, he sent a message that said, and I quote 'I really wish you were a top. It's weird that you aren't.’ I was fucking confused because this is _after_ my existential crisis about pubes, and _after_ putting his hairless nuts in my mouth. We never got around to even _talking_ about penetration." 

__

Believe it or not, it isn’t the first time Eddie has heard Richie say the word ‘penetration.’ In fact, he hears Richie say much raunchier things on a daily basis, but the word accompanied with the visual of Richie bending over to find a cutting board in the lower cupboard has him sweating a little around his collar. "It's weird you aren't a top? What does that even mean?" 

__

Richie places the cutting board on the counter and shrugs. "He says I look like one. Fucking ridiculous.” 

__

"Yeah,” Eddie says automatically, half-listening as Richie reaches into the fridge, holding a tomato, a red onion, and an avocado in one hand.

__

“I didn’t think I had that _vibe_. I thought I had more of a ‘please, god, put your dick in my mouth or I’ll die immediately’ vibe." 

__

Unfortunately, Eddie flicks his gaze up from Richie’s ass to his lips. Pink lips. Nice lips. Dick-sucking lips. “Yeah, that’s ridiculous.”

__

"It is. Also, if he wanted a top, why the fuck did he agree to go out with me in the first place without asking me first? Keep in mind, he didn’t list his preference on the app either so I just assumed everything was all good."

__

Richie washes the tomato—not thoroughly enough, Eddie notes—and starts slicing, laying the pieces on the cutting board with deft fingers before moving on to the lettuce. And, is Eddie getting turned on by watching Richie make a sandwich? Maybe so.

__

"I don't know, I just think the labeling thing is kind of regressive. Yeah, I guess it makes it easier when you know beforehand what the other person wants, I just don’t think it’s necessary all the time. Like, shit, can’t we just talk and figure it out as we go instead of slapping a big fucking label on ourselves from the get-go? I’m down for anything, but can’t I go into a date or hang out without them expecting one of us to have a dick up their ass at the end of the night?” 

__

Eddie considers himself...open. He hasn't ever bottomed, simply because the opportunity has never presented itself. With Richie though? He zeroes in on Richie’s thighs in those ridiculous fucking shorts and thinks, maybe. He nods, gripping the neck of his beer bottle. “So...if you _had_ to choose a label?” 

__

Richie reaches in the cabinet for plates, his shirt hiking up over his belly a little. “Did you listen to anything I just said, or am I speaking into a void?” 

__

“I was listening,” Eddie says, takes a big drink from his beer, and forces a casual tone. “I’m just wondering if you have a preference at all. Usually guys do, so…” 

__

If Richie picks up on any ulterior motives, he doesn’t let on. "I guess I bottom more but, like, penetration isn't super important to me usually." 

__

For the first time since walking into the room, Eddie looks at Richie’s eyes. "No?" 

__

"Nope. It's kind of a hassle. I have to really fucking want it, and most of these guys don’t get me in the mood enough. And, honestly most of the time they just aren't worth the trouble of spending ten extra minutes in the bathroom flushing my rectum out with warm water.” Richie starts assembling the sandwiches and chuckles to himself. “I'm gonna get me a shirt that says ‘blowjob queen’ on it. _That’s_ a label I’m comfortable with." 

__

Once again Eddie lets his gaze linger on Richie’s crotch. He can see the dick outline clearer now, moving around a little under the thin fabric. His hand slides from the neck of the beer bottle down to the base. “Get me a matching one.”

__

“Anyway, what’s new with you?” Richie sets a beautiful turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato, sharp cheddar, and light honey mustard on the table in front of Eddie. “You look like shit. Bad day?” 

__

Eddie stands up and goes to the sink to wash his hands. “Thanks, and yeah.” 

__

Richie flips his palms up and wiggles his fingers, making a show of tiptoeing across the kitchen. “I know what would cheer you up.” 

__

Eddie waves him off, biting back his smile. “I’m not in the mood.” 

__

“Are you sure?” 

__

“Yes, I’m sure,” Eddie replies, feeling the heat of Richie’s body behind him. Instead of a gentle brush of his fingers, Richie is rough and abrupt, squeezing the soft muscle on Eddie’s side. Eddie jumps and spins around, trapped between the counter and Richie’s solid body. For a second, he forgets he’s supposed to fight back. Richie is close, impossibly warm, and his hands are everywhere at once, crawling up his sides, tickling the back of his neck, pinching lightly at his exposed wrists. Suddenly, all Eddie can think about is slowing down, placing his hands on top of Richie’s and forcing him to take his time. “Okay, okay, stop. You win. I surrender.” He steps to his right to get away and Richie’s arm is there, blocking him, leaving his left side open for more relentless tickling.

__

“You’re a dickhead,” Eddie laughs and slaps his hand hard against Richie’s chest. Richie barely flinches, but he does hook an arm around Eddie’s neck and put him in a headlock, bending him at the waist and ruffling his hair. “You stink.”

__

"You don't like my stink?" Richie asks, through his laughter.

__

Unfortunately, Eddie finds that he _does_ like Richie's stink. With his face smushed to Richie’s belly, Eddie breathes him in and literally shudders at the strong, musky scent. He wiggles in Richie’s grasp, getting absolutely nowhere, then resorts to pinching the meat on the inside of Richie’s thigh, as hard as he can. It _will_ bruise, and he hopes he’ll be able to see it in all its stages. Richie hisses and releases Eddie momentarily, only to grab his hands and twist his arms behind his back. 

__

Eddie stops, his mouth opening to make space for a word that doesn’t make it all the way out. Richie waits, his eyes dark, lips curled into a gentle smile. Eddie doesn’t need to _see_ Richie’s dick through the shorts because he can fucking _feel_ it, pressing right up against his hip. “Holy shit, you’re strong,” is what he ends up blurting out. 

__

On the counter, Richie’s phone begins to vibrate. “I need to get that,” he says, like an apology. 

__

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbles, and all but runs to his room, muttering the excuse that he has to change out of his work clothes. He shuts the door, locks it, and drops himself onto the edge of his bed, spreading his legs. He drags a palm over his hard-on, trapped by too many layers of clothes, and groans. With shaking hands, he frees himself, spreads precum over the head of his dick, pretending to tease for about a millisecond, and goes to town, whimpering and keeping his mouth closed around his moans. 

__

He nears the edge embarrassingly fast, and shuts his eyes, letting his mouth fall open. " _Fuck, Richie,_ " are the words that tumble out in a hushed, strained voice. He snaps his eyes open, watching the door as if Richie is going to kick it down and demand him to stop objectifying him without permission. 

__

Because his dick is demanding attention, tensing and throbbing in his hand, the fear passes quickly and Eddie thrusts into his fist. His eyes flutter closed, and now there are clear mental images with the words. Richie's stupid, cocky smile when he knows _exactly_ what he's doing. The toned muscles in Richie's arms. Richie's giant fucking hands, holding Eddie by the hips. Richie's hands on his dick, rough and practiced. " _Richie, oh fuck_." Richie’s mouth on him, warm and wet. " _Yeah, Richie just like that_." Richie’s hands gripping his cheeks, keeping him spread to lick long, slow stripes over his quivering hole. " _Richie_ ," he repeats, and again and again. " _Richie, oh my god_ -"

__

Eddie comes so hard he has to lie down immediately. “Alright,” he says to the ceiling, when his breathing evens out and he’s no longer seeing spots. “Okay.” He stands up on shaky legs and steps out of his slacks and boxers, unbuttoning his shirt on the way to the restroom. The Eddie in the reflection doesn’t look the least bit ashamed about what he just did. “Motherfucker,” he mutters, and washes his hands again. He changes into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts loose enough to hide his dick—a precautionary measure, and goes back to the kitchen.

__

Richie is still on the phone, talking about scheduling a meeting for next week. Eddie sits at the table, picking up his neglected sandwich. Richie rolls his eyes, mimes putting a gun to his head, and grins.

__

* * *

__

It’s probably close to midnight when Eddie wakes up to the front door slamming. He hears Richie stumble over the rug and bump into the table in the entryway, the telltale sign that he’s drunk. Also, he’s singing, blaringly and acapella, as if he has the range to do so. 

__

_“Soooo anxious... meet me at eleven-thirty, I love the way you talkin' dirty.”_

__

His voice drifts down the hallway, getting progressively louder.

__

_“Soooo anxious... boy could you quit this stallin', you know I’m a sexaholic.”_

__

Eddie’s bedroom door swings open and Richie steps into the room. “Hey, Eds,” he drawls, slamming the door behind him. 

__

“Richie, c’mon, I have to be up at six.” Eddie squints at him in the dark, watching his unsteady figure make its way across the room. 

__

Richie responds to this by crawling onto the bed on all fours and collapsing onto his belly next to Eddie. “Can I sleep with you? Sleeping with you on the couch the other day was the best sleep I’ve had in weeks.” 

__

"Fine,” Eddie says softly, feeling Richie’s rancid breath hot on his face. He rolls over to face the other way, kicking at Richie’s feet. “Take your fucking shoes off." 

__

“Right, right,” Richie says, and his shoes land on the floor with a quiet thump. He sticks his socked feet under the duvet and rubs them on Eddie’s calves. “Happy, your majesty?”

__

“Yes,” Eddie answers honestly, Richie is a welcome weight on the other side of the bed, causing the mattress to dip in the middle, shifting Eddie toward him like they’re in quicksand. “Now, let me sleep.”

__

“ _I wanna stand with you on a mountain,”_ Richie sings, too loud in the small room. _“I wanna bathe with you in the sea…”_

__

Despite himself, Eddie smiles, keeping his eyes closed. “Savage Garden, Richie? Really?”

__

“Two things," Richie mumbles. “One, I did great at karaoke tonight. Two, I’m deleting Grindr.”

__

"Why?" 

__

"All the guys are boring and stupid. Waste of time,” Richie says, and uses a single finger to tickle the back of Eddie’s ear. “None of them make me feel as warm and gooey inside as you do, Eds." 

__

Eddie flinches, his face going warm, and knocks Richie’s hand away, "Shut up." 

__

Richie is quiet for about sixty seconds before he starts singing again, quieter than before _“I wanna lay like this forever…”_ He tucks himself under the duvet, walking his fingers along the curve of Eddie’s side. _“Until the sky falls down on me.”_

__

“If you want to sleep here,” Eddie sighs, holding back a shiver when Richie’s hand ghosts over his nipple and rests higher up, near his collarbone. “You need to be quiet.” 

__

"I remembered something today…” Richie says, closer now, almost in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “I remembered you sleeping over at my house once over the summer when we were kids. We ate like a pound of ice cream each because, you know..." 

__

"My mom was a tyrant, yeah,” Eddie finishes wryly.

__

"Right. And we were in my room and I said, in a ridiculously roundabout way that I wanted to eat ice cream with you for the rest of my life or something fucking stupid like that.” Richie chuckles, and it brings goosebumps to the surface of Eddie’s skin. “Do you remember that?" 

__

They were on the floor, because Richie’s bed was too small for both his rapidly growing legs and Eddie’s wild sleeping positions. Richie had turned to him, very serious, and Eddie had thought something was terribly wrong before Richie opened his mouth and came the closest either of them ever did to talking about _feelings_. "I do now.”

__

"And you called me a fucking sap and flicked my ear." 

__

"I don't remember that part," Eddie lies. He had desperately wanted to kiss Richie then, and didn’t have the tools to understand that desire, much less voice it out loud. Boyish violence and shit-talking was always easier. Maybe he hasn’t changed much. 

__

"It happened. Because I gave you a wet willy after that, and you almost cried about my spit in your ear. I felt like an asshole all night." 

__

Eddie stays quiet, staring at the thin sliver of moonlight coming in through his curtains.

__

Through a yawn, Richie says, "We were so stupid.”

__

"You're _still_ stupid,” Eddie says, and goes still when Richie shifts behind him, moving in closer.

__

Richie slides his hand lower and spreads his fingers over Eddie's belly. "We both are." 

__

Eddie almost expects to be tickled, but he isn't. Richie’s hand is heavy on his navel and Eddie thinks, _just a little lower_. Just a little lower, and he could dip his fingers under the waistband of Eddie's boxers and then… And then? Eddie places his hand over Richie's and arches his back, immediately feeling Richie's hard-on poke him in the ass. Richie's response is subtle, a barely audible gasp, but it's there. Eddie does it again, pressing back to feel him fully, greedy like he’s always been. This time, Richie meets his movements, rolling his hips into Eddie's ass. He makes a sound somewhere between shock and arousal and Eddie’s head spins, his own dick fattening up in his boxers. When he goes in for round three, Richie stops him with a firm hand on his hip. 

__

"I'm-" 

__

There’s panic evident in Eddie’s voice when he asks, “You’re what?”

__

"I'm pretty drunk." 

__

"O-okay, yeah.” Eddie forces a breath out and taps Richie’s hand. “I know, I mean. I know." 

__

"Sorry," Richie says, but doesn’t pull away. He stays close, draping his arm around Eddie’s waist.

__

"You should be.” Eddie closes his eyes. Richie laughs into his neck, making him shiver. “You smell like an ashtray." 

__

"You smell like eucalyptus. It’s nice." Richie’s fingers stroke up the back of Eddie’s head, through his hair. "You're nice." 

__

Eddie thinks of being young, of Richie’s busy fingers messing up his hair, and can't fathom how he was ever able to go without Richie's touch. "Go to sleep, dude."

__

* * *

__

Every other Sunday, Eddie does all the grocery shopping. When Eddie moved in, Richie had handed Eddie his credit card and said: “You can buy whatever you want as long as I never have to step into a fucking Whole Foods again.” It had made him feel like a sugar baby or a spoiled child at the time, holding Richie’s black card in his wallet, walking the aisles and filling the cart with things he could afford with his own money but would normally never buy. Now, the bi-weekly trip is embedded in Eddie's routine as much as anything else.

__

He takes the reusable shopping bags out of their designated drawer and pads down the hallway to knock on Richie’s door. “Hey, I’m going to Trader Joes.”

__

There’s silence behind the door and Eddie waits a beat before opening it and peeking inside. Richie is fast asleep, sprawled out on his back with his glasses on and his open laptop precariously close to the edge of the bed.

__

“Hey.” Eddie steps into the room and stops at the side of the bed, shaking Richie’s knee. “Wake up.”

__

In his sleep, Richie knocks Eddie's hand away and mumbles something along the lines of ‘fuck off.’

__

“I need your shopping list in the next five minutes or I’m leaving,” Eddie says and Richie scrunches up his nose in response.

__

Eddie sighs and shuts Richie’s laptop, setting it on the bedside table. Then, he carefully removes Richie’s glasses and sets them aside on the table as well. “Alright, asshole. You can sleep, but you don’t get any food for the next two weeks.”

__

It’s a lie, of course. Eddie doesn’t actually _need_ a list from Richie, he only asks for one to be polite. Usually, he goes into the store and picks up exactly what Richie likes without having to look at the list at all.

__

Still asleep, Richie frowns and exhales sharply through his nose. Eddie watches the frown fade into a serene expression, and trails his eyes down Richie’s body. He’s perfectly still and loose-limbed, looking comfortable in his threadbare lounge pants and vintage Janet Jackson t-shirt. In one second, Eddie is thinking about crawling in next to him for an innocent nap, maybe kissing along his jaw and collarbones. 

__

Then, in the very next second, he’s met with the jarring mental image of himself waking Richie up with a blowjob.

__

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, watching the rise and fall of Richie’s broad chest. He thinks, for a millisecond, about rucking Richie’s shirt up to see if his hands would fit over the swell of Richie’s pecs and has to close his eyes and take a deep breath. “Okay, man. Get a grip.”

__

He rests one knee on the bed and pokes Richie on the cheek, trying one last time to wake him. “Hey, I’m going shopping.” 

__

Richie peels his eyes open and catches Eddie by the wrist. "You're gonna get hurt."

__

Eddie laughs, tugging out of Richie’s grasp. "Jesus Richie, that sounded so fucking menacing." 

__

"You can't tickle me while I'm sleeping,” Richie says, rubbing his eyes. “I'm liable to do anything to you."

__

"What, like suplex me while you're fully asleep?" Eddie asks. “I wasn’t even trying to tickle you.”

__

“Liar,” Richie replies, with a sleepy smile.

__

Eddie follows Richie’s eyes, notices them drag over his body. It feels as intimate as a hand stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. He takes his knee off the bed, putting distance between them. “I’m getting food. Do you have a list?”

__

Richie yawns and shakes his head. “Why don’t you take a nap with me and I'll go with you later?”

__

“It’s 4 PM,” Eddie says, just to say something that isn’t _‘yes, oh god, yes.’_

__

“So?” Richie says, and takes Eddie’s hand, pulling him forward. It’s playful and easy, the way he always is, but there’s something insistent in his eyes. "Nap with me.”

__

“Okay.” Eddie climbs onto the bed and smiles at the small, victorious noise Richie makes. “Big spoon or little spoon?”

__

“Little spoon, duh,” Richie says, rolling onto his side. “Does this body say big spoon to you?”

__

Eddie lies down and curls himself in behind Richie, tucking his knees to Richie’s thighs and wrapping one arm around his waist, filling all the negative space. He closes his eyes, breathing in Richie’s fruity shampoo and the sweet, natural scent of his skin. “I’m not even tired.”

__

Richie pauses for so long, Eddie thinks he’s asleep already. Finally, he says, “But you’re here.”

__

“You’re lucky I like you.” Eddie shifts his arm up, daring to walk his fingers along the curve of Richie’s side. “And, I have nothing else to do today.”

__

“No funny business,” Richie says, wiggling under Eddie’s touch. “Just sleep.”

__

“I wasn’t,” Eddie says, walking his finger lower again, closer to Richie’s belly button. “But, since you put the idea in my head…”

__

Richie rolls over just as Eddie starts tickling him, and sticks both hands under Eddie’s armpits. "I _said_ no funny business." Eddie laughs and clamps his arms down, defending himself from Richie’s attack the best he can. 

__

It’s more pinching and flicking than it is tickling, and escalates to playful shoving and kicking, twisting each other’s arms and narrowly avoiding headbutts and eye pokes. Richie is relentless, annoyingly quick with each poke at Eddie’s side or slap on his thigh.

__

"I'm not gonna let you win this time." Before he can talk himself out of it, Eddie wills his hands to stop shaking, swings a leg over Richie’s lap, and climbs on top of him, trapping Richie’s hands between their chests. “So, you should just give up.”

__

Richie smiles up at him and it feels like a punch in the gut. He gives one half-assed attempt to break free and says, “Nope,” then lifts his head and scrapes his teeth against Eddie’s neck.

__

It throws Eddie for a loop to say the least, simultaneously bewildering him, sending a chill down his spine, and making his dick twitch in his jeans. "Did you just fucking bite me?" 

__

"Sure did." 

__

“Alright.” Eddie bites him back, just under his ear, quick and light. Richie digs his teeth into his lower lip to stifle either a laugh or, worse, a moan.

__

It's competitive almost, the way Eddie ducks his head and does it again, harder, and it feels like he's won when Richie gasps. Eddie shifts in his lap, feels the unmistakable shape of Richie's hard length, and freezes, pausing with his nose brushing the rough stubble on the underside of Richie's jaw. "Fuck me," he whispers, heart racing, and tilts his head up to see Richie watching him, no longer smiling. 

__

Taking a breath, Eddie presses his lips to the dip between Richie's collarbones, then lower, at the tuft of hair peeking out from his stretched collar. A breathless chuckle vibrates through Richie's throat, Eddie feels it and presses harder against it, parting his lips to chase after the sound with his tongue. Their hands work together to push Richie's shirt up, letting Eddie stop and grope Richie's chest, fit all five fingers between his ribs, and follow the gentle slope of his belly down to his hips. He shimmies down the bed to press kisses in a straight line down Richie's bare torso, fuller and slower each time, spurred on by Richie's quiet moans. He stops at Richie's navel, just long enough that Richie starts to speak up in protest. Then, Eddie sticks his entire face into Richie's soft belly and blows a raspberry. 

__

Richie shrieks and bursts into laughter. "Oh, you fucking bastard." They sit up at the same time and Richie grabs Eddie under the arms, which Eddie defends by kicking his legs and throwing elbows. 

__

“Nope, you started it,” Richie says, and pulls Eddie on top of them like he weighs nothing, rolling over to switch their positions. He's heavy, knocking the wind out of Eddie when he releases all of his weight, but Eddie can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be. He looks up at Richie—the lines by his pink mouth and the dark eyelashes framing his bright eyes—and gathers the front of his shirt in his fist, more a suggestion than a threat, and Richie smirks. “What are you gonna do, kick my ass?” 

__

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, and kisses him. It feels like falling, it feels like floating, it feels like Richie picking him up and carrying him through mud and sewage. Fuck, it feels like something he'd never thought he'd have.

__

Richie chuckles against Eddie's lips. “Finally.” 

__

Eddie drops his head to the pillow, panting more than he had a moment ago. His lips tingle, already missing Richie’s. " _Finally_? What the fuck do you mean?" 

__

“Nothing.” Richie kisses the corners of Eddie's lips. "Just that you’ve been looking at me like you want to eat me alive." 

__

"Shut up," Eddie cradles Richie's head in his hands and kisses him again. Barely pulling away, he says again, “Shut the fuck up.” 

__

It's soft and careful, just their lips sliding together. Richie slips a hand under Eddie's shirt, tickling his ribs, and Eddie pinches his arm, trapping Richie’s lower lip between his teeth. "Fucker," he hisses, smiling into the kiss. Richie kisses him harder, laughing through it, and pulls away before Eddie can bite down again, ducking his head to blow raspberries on Eddie's neck. 

__

"Why are you making this difficult?" Eddie wraps his legs around Richie's waist and pushes him in the chest, rolling them over. Richie goes easily, pulling Eddie on top of him for another kiss.

__

"When have I ever made things easy for myself?" Richie asks and pinches both of Eddie's nipples.

__

Eddie yelps and sits up, digging his fingers into Richie's soft hips, delighting in the way Richie squirms. He's found the sweet spot, it seems. "You want to fight me, don't you?" 

__

"Please kick my ass," Richie says through uncontrolled laughter, rolling onto his front to rebuff Eddie's attacks. "I deserve it." 

__

"Yeah?" Eddie wrestles Richie's hands away from his body and holds his wrists against the mattress near his head. He drapes himself over Richie's back and kisses behind his ear, getting quite the thrill from how pliant he goes underneath him. "You sure?"

__

"I'm positive." Richie chuckles, his face half smushed into the mattress. "You know, I saw this in porn once." 

__

Eddie laughs, rocking his hips against Richie's ass to finally give his neglected erection the attention it deserves. "What kind of weird porn are you watching, man?" 

__

"It was an accident. I was jacking off, as one does, and, uh, my finger slipped." 

__

"Your finger slipped." Eddie grinds down again, squeezing Richie's thighs between his knees. 

__

"Right-" A moan cuts through his words and he shudders, “As they tend to do when they're covered in lube, and the next thing I know, I'm jacking off to two naked dudes wrestling." 

__

Eddie starts to dry hump Richie in earnest now, like they're two horny virgins. "Was it hot?"

__

Richie writhes underneath him, twisting his wrists in Eddie's palms. "Pretty hot." 

__

"Did it get you off?" Eddie pulls one of Richie's hands behind his back and snakes one arm around his neck. With his bicep pressed to Richie's throat, he whispers, "If so, how hard did it make you come?"

__

"I've had better orgasms," Richie answers, slightly strained and red in the face. "7 out of 10." 

__

"So, there's a good chance," Eddie starts, catching Richie's lips in an awkward kiss, "that I could make you come harder than that?"

__

"I mean…you're the numbers guy," Richie says, sardonically. "You tell me."

__

Eddie sits up, motioning for Richie to roll over, and climbs on top of him. He kisses Richie again, deeper, pinning both of his wrists over his head.

__

"Feels like you're bullying me," Richie breathes, "and I kind of like it." 

__

"Freak," Eddie says, and swipes his tongue over Richie's lower lip.

__

"Thanks, it's the trauma...so, are we doing this?" 

__

"I mean..." Eddie releases Richie’s wrists and rocks against him, bumping their dicks together. "Yeah. What do you want to do?" 

__

"I want you naked," Richie says, sliding his hands up the sides of Eddie's thighs, and it literally makes Eddie's dick throb.

__

"And then what?" 

__

And, very seriously, Richie answers: "We oil each other up and wrestle."

__

Eddie rolls his eyes and flicks Richie's ear. "Shut the fuck up."

__

"Honestly, I just want to kiss you." Then, Richie's voice goes soft. Shy, Eddie would say if he didn't know Richie at all. "I've kind of always wanted to kiss you." 

__

Suddenly, looking down at Richie's wide eyes, Eddie feels the wave of a memory coming back to him. It comes fast, flashing behind his eyes in fast forward, making him dizzy. Richie's sweaty hands and wide, terrified eyes, sawdust on the floor, Eddie's bandaged knees and the knot of fear in his throat.

__

"Wait…" Eddie sits back, reeling at the new memory. "Holy shit Richie, I think...no way." 

__

Richie blinks up at him, teasing his fingers up Eddie's arms. "What?" 

__

"Remember Mike's 14th birthday party?" Eddie asks, and Richie frowns. So Eddie swallows dryly, and adds: "Spin the bottle?" 

__

Realization washes over Richie's features in the form of a furious blush. "No fucking way, dude." 

__

Eddie nods, solemnly. "You were my first kiss." 

__

"This is golden," Richie grins so wide his face must hurt. "How the fuck did I forget that I jacked off for like three weeks to the memory of you accidentally kissing my chin?" 

__

"The sheer embarrassment of it all, probably. Apparently, I suppressed the memory of my shitty first kiss without any help from supernatural factors." 

__

Richie props himself up on an elbow and brushes his thumb over Eddie's lip. "Let me make up for it." He kisses Eddie like it _is_ their first time, sweet and unhurried, guiding Eddie with a gentle hand to lay on top of him. The fantasy is shattered when Richie starts to tug at the hem of Eddie's shirt. "Off." 

__

Eddie sits up on his knees between Richie's legs. "Sure, but you're gonna have to wrestle me."

__

"Easy." Richie shifts up to put his back to the headboard and in one quick move, he pulls the front of Eddie's shirt up and tucks it behind his head without taking it off his arms. 

__

"What the fuck—” 

__

Then, Richie pulls the shirt down in the back and forces it over Eddie's shoulders and down his biceps, effectively trapping him in the fabric like a makeshift rope. Richie ghosts his hands over Eddie's belly, then to the small of his back, before holding him by the hips and turning him around. Eddie settles between Richie's legs with his arms trapped at his sides, his back against Richie's chest and his dick rock hard. "Oh, fuck." He drops his head back to Richie’s shoulder as Richie places a trail of kisses from his neck up to his earlobe, where he nibbles hard enough to make Eddie whimper. Richie presses his dick to the small of Eddie's back, rubbing both hands down his chest and belly, stopping at his hip.

__

“What is this?”

__

Eddie opens his eyes and looks down. On his hip, next to Richie’s thumb, there’s a comically small tattoo of a smiley face. It’s one of the first things Eddie did after he decided he wanted a divorce, just to say he could, just to say ‘fuck you’ to his ex, his mom, and whatever other invisible authority figure that made him live the way he did for so long. 

__

"When did you get a tattoo?" 

__

“Last year,” Eddie says, and bucks his hips up to help Richie get the hint. "Will you touch me before I fucking combust?”

__

The second Eddie is free, he turns and tickles Richie into submission, holding him down and taking his t-shirt off with ease. Richie lies there, in all his hairy glory, and lets Eddie bite his pecs, suck his nipples, and trail open-mouthed kisses down to his belly.

__

"Let's get these off," he says, pulling Richie's pants down his legs. Richie kicks them to the floor, revealing his obscenely tented boxers and the bruise Eddie left on his thigh, and returns the favor, pulling Eddie's jeans down his ass. He pushes him back to pull them all the way off, cursing under his breath as he drags a palm up Eddie's length through the boxers. 

__

"Can I-?" he asks, and Eddie is saying yes before he even finishes the question. Gingerly, Richie pulls the tight fabric of Eddie's underwear off of his body.

__

There's always something frightening about being naked in front of someone for the first time, and it isn't necessarily the fear that they'll judge his body. It's that he's laid bare, with nowhere to hide. Every blush, every twitch of his muscles, every minuscule movement on display. But, Eddie doesn't get to ruminate too long on these thoughts.

__

“That is a nice dick,” Richie says, with a whistle. “It makes sense. Perfect man, perfect dick.”

__

Eddie sits up, watching Richie take him in. Normally, he’d rush through this part, turn the lights off or get close enough that at least he doesn’t have to look the other person in the eyes. But this is _Richie_ for fucks sake. After all they've been through together, all the blood they've shed, bones they've broken, and times they've defeated an evil clown, Eddie can't be shy with him. More importantly, buried underneath all of their history, Richie is still the most embarrassing man on the planet. He hooks his fingers over the top of Richie's boxers. "Can I see yours?"

__

Richie wiggles his hips. "Have at it." 

__

When Eddie pulls the boxers down over his hips, Richie's dick _does_ spring free and smacks against his belly. He takes it into his hand, hot and slick, and his mouth literally waters.

__

"Why does this make me want to sing?" Richie asks, licking his lips. 

__

"Please don't." Eddie pushes Richie back, getting onto his knees and forearms to kiss Richie's thighs and tug his boxers the rest of the way off. "Lube?" he says, and Richie motions vaguely to his bedside table. Eddie looks, and it's there on top of the table, sitting next to the lamp like a decorative piece. He bites back the snarky comment on the tip of his tongue as he drips a liberal amount over both of their dicks. When Eddie gets on top of him, slotting one thigh between his, it's immediately intense, a million little fires starting under Eddie's skin, at every point where they’re connected.

__

Richie holds him tight, his hips arching off the bed when Eddie rocks against him. “Fuck, Eddie, I want you so fucking much right now I'm going to lose it." 

__

"How do you want me?"

__

"Just like this, don't stop."

__

Eddie props himself up on one arm and gets a hand between them. "Let me touch you."

__

Richie wraps one big hand around Eddie’s dick, expertly twisting his wrist and brushing his thumb over the head with each upstroke. "You have such a pretty dick. I can’t wait to get it in my mouth. I want it messy, my spit and your cum dripping down my chin, your fingers in my mouth, stretching my lips around your cock.” 

__

"Fuck, Richie, I've thought about blowing you every day this past week,” Eddie admits, practically licking into Richie’s mouth. Before his brain can catch up with the embarrassment spreading warm over his skin, he says, “I think I’d like to choke on it." 

__

Richie taps his fingers on Eddie's lips, letting Eddie's tongue taste the rough tips before dipping them inside. "Yeah? You want my cock down your throat baby?" 

__

Baby. Eddie could be that. He nods and takes Richie's fingers deeper, stroking his hand up Richie's dick.

__

"You look so fucking good like this," Richie sighs, pressing down on Eddie's tongue. His other fingers card through his hair. "I want to hold you by your hair and fuck your mouth until you're gagging. I'll give it to you, any time. Just say the word." 

__

Drool leaks from the corner of Eddie's mouth, and Richie sits up, lapping his tongue around his own fingers. Eddie pulls back, his vision fuzzy with arousal. "You're fucking disgusting, I love it. Do you talk shit like this all the time in bed or is it just for me?" 

__

Richie smiles and takes hold of Eddie’s dick again, slowing his movements. "You want me to lie to you?"

__

“Yeah, stroke my ego,” Eddie says, sliding his hand up Richie's neck to cup his jaw. “Tell me what I wanna hear.”

__

Richie’s eyes darken, and his smile fades. "It’s just for you, no one else." 

__

Eddie repositions himself with both knees between Richie’s legs and rolls his hips, thrusting into Richie's hand. There’s no use attempting to filter himself anymore. With Richie laid out in front of him, relaxed and willing, he can’t help but roll with the first thought that pops into his lust-clouded brain, fueled by nothing but desire. "What would you say if I told you I wanted to fuck you?" 

__

Richie lets out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a second. "You want to?" 

__

"Yeah,” Eddie sighs, gripping Richie’s thighs and parting his legs. “Would you let me?" 

__

"Fuck yes, what kind of question is that?"

__

Eddie drapes himself over Richie's chest, hiking his knees up. "What kind of shit would you talk while I'm fucking you senseless?" 

__

"I'd tell you I've thought a lot about your tight little body on top of me, holding my legs open, fucking me until I can't even remember my own name. I'd tell you how good you feel and how deep I want you." 

__

"I'd want to hear you. I bet you're loud when you're getting fucked. Are you?" 

__

Richie nods. “Do you like that?” 

__

"I love that." Eddie kisses and sucks bruises to Richie's neck, starting to thrust against him, heat building each time Richie whimpers or groans. Into the damp skin of Richie's neck, he says, "I can't wait to fuck you. I want you shaking, fucking crying for it. Want to make you scream." 

__

Richie rakes his nails down Eddie's back and grabs his ass. "I want you to fuck me hard and fast and all night, like a sexy Energizer bunny." 

__

Eddie laughs, fucking himself into the crease of Richie's thigh. Richie smooths his hands over every inch of Eddie's skin, slow and meticulous like he's afraid he'll miss something. 

__

"I fucking love your body," Richie says, his eyes half-lidded, lips red and kiss-swollen. He straightens out his legs and cups Eddie under the crease of his ass, lifting him and forcing his legs open until he’s straddling Richie’s thighs. "Your arms, your tits, your dick, your perfect ass. I want you all over me, do whatever you want to me. I want you to bend me over the kitchen counter and fuck me while I make breakfast." 

__

The bed rocks with their movements, each determined thrust bringing Eddie closer to the edge. Richie sets the pace, both hands squeezing Eddie's ass, and Eddie thinks about opening himself up, sinking onto Richie's cock, and laying on top of him just like this, letting Richie do all the work. "Would you...would you ever want to fuck me?" 

__

Richie kisses him then, melting away any remaining worry in Eddie’s bones. "Yeah, whatever you want, baby.”

__

"I've never- it would hurt, I think." Richie's giant dick slides against his, spreading lube and precum over their bellies and hips. "You're so fucking big." 

__

"I'd make it good for you,” Richie says softly, kissing him again. “Take my time." 

__

"I know you would. You might have to- um- I'd want you to- fuck, Richie, I-" 

__

Richie licks up the side of Eddie's neck and rasps in his ear. “What? Tell me, baby." 

__

"I want your mouth on me,” he says, and hides his burning face in Richie’s shoulder. It feels like a bigger admission than wanting Richie to fuck him, and he can’t decide if it’s because it feels more _illicit_ or more _intimate_.

__

"You want me to eat you out?” Richie asks, and takes Eddie's subdued whimper as a yes. “I'd do that for you, Lick you open and fuck you with my tongue until you’re crying and begging for my cock." 

__

Richie takes his thumb into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, and Eddie trembles with anticipation. When Richie reaches between Eddie’s legs and slides the spit-slick digit against his hole, he thinks he might vibrate out of his fucking skin. 

__

He closes his eyes, hissing at the steady rhythm of Richie's thumb rubbing firm circles against his rim, and comes abruptly, a jolt of pleasure shooting through him like lightning. There are stars behind his eyelids when Richie crashes their lips together and clamps his hands around Eddie's thighs. He holds them there until Eddie stills, panting and tingling. 

__

"Holy shit." Eddie collapses onto his side, his muscles too lax to do much else and wraps a lazy hand around Richie's dick.

__

"Can I flip you over?" Richie asks. “I want to sandwich my dick between your supple, perky asscheeks like a piece of meat between two freshly baked dinner rolls. Is that cool?" 

__

Eddie blinks at him, still deep in his post orgasm daze. "Yeah," he says, and rolls over onto his belly. Richie straddles his thighs and Eddie can tell he's doing his best not to squish him, but it's a futile effort once his hard dick is sliding between Eddie's cheeks. With a bruising grip on Eddie's waist, Richie comes over the small of his back, mumbling something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like the lord's prayer. 

__

Richie kisses the back of his neck and before Eddie can get too comfortable pressed to the mattress covered in lube and cum, Richie takes his hand and pulls him up. "Shower?"

__

In the shower, Eddie lets Richie wash his hair. Standing there under the stream of water, still coming down from his high Eddie looks up at Richie's unfairly handsome face and says: "I'm deleting Grindr."

__

Richie smooths Eddie's wet hair back and then up into a mohawk, grinning devilishly. "Why?"

__

"I'm going to focus on myself and go on a no cell phone retreat in the mountains, Richie, why the fuck do you think?" 

__

"Just wanted to hear you say that you wanted to fuck me exclusively." 

__

"Yeah, yeah asshole, don't get a big head about it." Eddie cups a hand around Richie's jaw, squishing his cheeks, watching his smile fade and his eyes widen. "What?"

__

"You're kind of beautiful and I'm obsessed with it— I mean, I'm into it,” he says, and winces a little before adding, “I'm into _you_ , I mean." 

__

Eddie drops his hand, turning away to hide his grin. "Eloquent." 

__

“I know.” Richie wraps his long arms around Eddie, pulling him close. “Are you hungry?”

__

They step out of the shower and manage to get semi-dressed without Eddie getting on his knees and sucking Richie off, then head to the kitchen to rummage through their depleted refrigerator.

__

"We have cheese and we have bread," Richie says. "Grilled cheese?"

__

Eddie sits at the table and watches Richie stand at the counter and grate cheese, wearing nothing but a pair of green boxers with hot pink smiley faces printed all over them. "I like those," he says, and Richie just flashes a smile at him over his shoulder. He looks the same as he did last week, last year, and 27 years ago, when they crawled across a sawdust covered floor and did their best impression of a kiss. The same long limbs, messy hair, and goofy smile. The same, except Eddie actually _sees_ him now—not only his odd, unwavering sex appeal, but his offbeat charm and kind, generous nature. The warmth that shines through his eyes every time they look at each other. 

__

Richie joins Eddie at the table holding a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches and a plate of potato chips. It feels as easy and calm as six months ago, at the start of their comfortable shared routine.

__

He pulls his chair close enough that their elbows are touching and kisses Eddie's cheek, sticking a hand under the table to pinch his thigh. Eddie pinches him back and takes his hand, holding it still in his lap. 

__

For the first time in a long time, Eddie doesn't want for anything—not freedom, normalcy, nor a late rebellious streak. He has Richie at his fingertips.

__

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter as [curiousair](https://twitter.com/curiousair), come talk to me. :)
> 
> some songs:  
> Lover You Should've Come Over- Jeff Buckley  
> I Wanna Sex You Up- Color Me Badd  
> So Anxious- Ginuwine  
> Truly, Madly, Deeply- Savage Garden


End file.
